


More Than Playoffs

by thekingslover



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Hockey!AU, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Protective!Cas, alternative universe, black eye cw, break up cw, bruises cw, fighting cw, hockey related injuries, ordontophobia tw, protective!Dean, tho then they make up
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-04
Updated: 2014-11-04
Packaged: 2018-02-24 03:57:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 8,088
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2567378
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thekingslover/pseuds/thekingslover
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Team Captain and center Dean really hates his new defenseman Castiel... until he doesn't.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on my tumblr 'thekingslover'. Inspired by [this](http://thekingslover.tumblr.com/post/95039573342/lawrence-kansas-after-pontiac-angels-defense-man). Enjoy!

Dean griped and complained all week, ever since he’d heard the news that his Hunters were fixing to trade the Angels for Castiel Novak.

“The team was perfect how it was,” Dean said to his right wing and brother Sam as they were having lunch one day. “They didn’t have to trade for this asshole.”

Sam rolled his eyes. “If the team’s so perfect, Dean, why haven’t we won any championships?” Before Dean could grumble out a retort about being a young team needing time to grow – he might have had something prepared for just this argument – Sam continued, “We haven’t got the defense. Victor’s out there trying, sure, but he can’t do it all himself. Castiel rounds out the team. Hell, I hope they put him on our line.”

“Are you kidding me right now?” Dean scoffed, voice boisterous in the quiet diner. The waitress who had been walking to their table with a pitcher of water turned right back around.

Sam watched her and sighed, before turning a grade-A bitch face on his brother. “He’s good, Dean. Real good. You know that.”

Yeah, Dean knew it. Castiel was a damned good defenseman – too good, really, considering Dean was a center trying to sneak by him all the time. Last year, Castiel poke-checked him so much that Dean finally, after a few choice words about Castiel’s mother, threw down the gloves. He had a bruise on his jaw for a full week after. Dean’s sure the black eye he gave Castiel lasted longer though. Small victories.

“Besides, Alastair isn’t worth his price tag. I wish they could have traded him instead of Samandriel,” Sam said, frowning at the mention of their newest ex-teammate. Dean frowned, too. He’d miss Sam, Jr., that’s for sure, and didn’t much look forward to facing against him on the ice – kid had jetpacks on his skates, seemed like, and was too small to knock off-balance. “Alistair, though,” Sam went on. He shook his head. “He doesn’t retaliate for you, Dean. I think he likes watching you get hit.”

Dean wasn’t overly surprised to hear Sam’s suspicions. Once he swore he saw Alistair laughing after Dean got boarded. “That why you took a swing at him last week?”

Sam glanced away. “Guy’s a real piece of work.”

 _Can’t argue with that_. “Novak will be just as bad, you wait.”

“No way,” Sam said, starting to smile again. “He’s the most protective defenseman I’ve ever seen. Did you see the Angels play the Vampirates last night? I thought he was going to take off Benny’s head for knocking over Hael.” Hael, one of the only female players in the league, had already proved her stuff on more than one occasion. She could throw a punch as well as anyone. She didn’t need protecting. “He did the same thing last week when Dick went for Gabriel.”

Dean snorted. Sam fixed him a humorless stare. Dean shrugged. “What? Come on, it’s funny.”

Sam rolled his eyes again, more dramatically than before. The waitress came round again, this time carrying their lunches. She dropped them on the table and then hurried off before Dean could even ask for ketchup for his fries.

Sam picked up a little plastic cup from the side of his dish and poured dressing all over his salad. He didn’t look at Dean as he said, “You’re reckless, Dean. You always have been. It works out well most times, but I’d just…” He huffed out a breath. “I’d feel a hell of a lot better if you had someone looking out for you.”

Dean saw his point, maybe just a little bit, although hell if he’d admit it. Alastair was a piece of shit. He’d let Sam take a few hits, too, although Sam didn’t get hit nearly as often as Dean since he was so damned big. Hitting him was like running into a brick wall, even on skates.

Defensemen weren’t supposed to protect them all the time, but a little intimidation in their favor would be nice. Not _laughter_.

“Just give him a shot, Dean. That’s all I ask.”

Dean stared down at his burger. “Fine, but I don’t have to like it.”

*

Castiel didn’t talk much. Dean really hated that. They were all friends mostly, or at least familiar with each other, and here comes some newcomer who won’t even try to make an effort to get to know them. It really stuck in Dean’s craw, especially as team Captain.

Maybe to shake the beehive a bit, Dean skated up to him in practice. Castiel tilted his head, clearly aware of Dean’s presence, but didn’t look at him. Dean huffed indignantly.

“Hey, Novak! I see that eye of yours healed up just fine.”

“Yes.” Castiel tapped his stick against the side of his skate. “And I notice I didn’t hit your jaw hard enough to knock in any sense.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

Castiel – _finally_ – looked up at him, and yeah, those eyes were just as bright blue as they had been the last time Dean saw him this close. _Damn it_. Why did this guy have to be _hot_ on top everything else?

“Should I speak slower? Or use smaller words?” Castiel said.

Dean gritted his teeth. “That what I get for coming over here and trying to be nice to you?”

“That’s not what you were doing!” Castiel snapped, slapping his stick on the ice. The rest of the team stopped practice to turn and stare. Castiel sent a cold glare towards Dean and then skated off to the other side of the rink.

By the net, Bobby sent Dean a _look_. Dean had known his coach a very long time, and knew that look meant, _you idjit_. Dean shrugged dramatically. The rest of the team got back to practice, except Castiel who skated on the outskirts of the group, waiting for his chance at the net, and Dean, who watched him.

“Won’t be here a week,” Dean snickered under his breath and joined his team.

*

Bobby kept Dean’s line the same for the Hunters’ next game. The Demons were a more physical team than most, making up in bruisers what they didn’t have in skill. Dean had already been checked four times and boarded once when the referees’ backs were turned. Sam was getting off a bit better, thank God, which was the only thing keeping Dean from absolutely losing his shit.

He was still pissed though, and getting more and more frustrated by the second. It only intensified as he saw Alistair laugh with one of the Demons just before faceoff. It got much, much worse when that same Demon tried to push Dean’s head through the glass. Over the ringing in his ears, Dean heard a laugh. He looked up from where he’d fallen on the ice in time to see Alistair, smiling wide, high five the Demon who hit him.

Alistair’s laughter abruptly stopped however, when a hand clapped his shoulder, swung him around, and another slugged him right across the jaw. Alistair dropped to Castiel’s feet. Castiel shook out his hand.

“What the fuck?” Alistair demanded.

Castiel’s face was righteous fury incarnate. Features drawn tight. Eyes colder than the ice of the rink. He didn’t say anything, just glared much harder than he ever did at Dean.

“Fuck you, Novak,” Alistair growled.

“No, thank you,” Castiel said and skated away, toward Dean. Behind him the referees huddled, likely trying to figure out what the hell to do with this now. Castiel paid them no mind. The hardness in his eyes slipped away as he looked down to Dean. He held out a hand, and once taken, helped Dean to his feet.

“Cas… Did you just…?” Dean didn’t quite believe his eyes.

“I’m your defenseman now,” Castiel said. His hand lingered on Dean’s even after Dean was steady.

“Yeah.” Dean couldn’t quite manage to pull his hand away either.

“I’ll watch over you,” Castiel said, earnest, like a promise. Then he let go of Dean’s hand and went to face his punishment.

Sam skated to Dean next, checking him over. “You alright?”

Dean didn’t really know what to say.

*

After the game, Castiel sat on the bench by his locker, wrapping some ice against his knuckles. The rest of the team had more or less cleared out or headed for the showers. Alistair, after receiving a raised-voice talking to by Bobby, had stormed out the front door some time ago.

Now it was just Dean and Novak – er, Castiel. No, _Cas_.

Dean stuffed his arms into a plaid overshirt and buttoned it up the front over his t-shirt. He knew he was being ridiculous – or worse. He was being an even bigger dick than Dick from the Leviathans. Castiel saved his ass tonight. He didn’t get shoved around nearly as much after the Demons discovered there would be some retribution for it. They almost seemed scared of Castiel, not that Dean could blame them. He was everywhere on the ice, and sharp with a laser focus.

Dean almost kind of admired him.

Sort of. _Maybe_.

He sighed. He was being a dick again.

“Cas,” Dean said, loud, so damned tired of his own bullshit.

Castiel looked up from across the room. “Yes, Dean?”

“Just…” What Dean had planned to say died in his throat when his eyes met with Castiel’s. Even separated by a few feet, Dean could see how attractive those damned eyes were. And those cheekbones. And that jaw. And that _hair_ , wild from being caught under a helmet for a few hours. And worse, he looked at Dean with only curiosity and interest, all malice that had built between them entirely vanished.

Dean swallowed the lump in his throat. Yeah, okay. He’d admit it, at least to himself. He kind of liked Cas. He kind of _always_ liked Cas. But it wasn’t until today that he realized maybe Cas isn’t such a jerk, after all. Maybe they’ve just really, _really_ gotten off on the wrong foot. Dean suspected he was mostly to blame for it. The things he had said about Cas’s mother last year hadn’t been pretty.

Water under the bridge now, it seemed, with Cas looking like that. Dean just wished he knew what he had done to deserve it.

“Thanks, Cas,” Dean said and meant it.

Cas looked away, back to his hand, but Dean still saw the small smile that spread on his lips – a smile so soft and precious that it twisted Dean up inside. “You’re welcome, Dean.”

Dean nodded, and thought of saying more but decided not to. Whatever this was, it was still fragile. There was no use rushing it. He didn’t want to fight again. Cas threw a mean left hook.

Dean gathered his things. At the door, he stopped. “See you tomorrow, man.”

“Sleep well, Dean,” Cas said.

“Yeah. You, too.” Dean thought of Cas’s smile the whole way home and well into the night.


	2. Chapter 2

Over the next few days, Dean, both out of shame for how he acted and embarrassment by how damned attracted he was to his newest defenseman, kept his distance from Cas. It wasn’t difficult. Despite the understanding that had blossomed between the two of them, Cas still shied away from more personal interactions. He skated and practiced with the team, ate with them when invited, but he rarely talked, still seeming an outsider even in the Hunter colors.

“You’ve got to talk to him,” Sam said from across the table. They were at the diner again. The place had a nice charm, even if the waitress was still wary of them.

Dean crossed his arms. “If he doesn’t want to be a part of the team, it isn’t any of my business.”

“Actually, it is. You _are_ team Captain.”

“Yeah, _Captain_. Not _babysitter_.”

Sam let out a long-suffering sigh that Dean glared at him for. The glare softened, though, when Sam spoke, “The team’s following your lead, Dean. You hated on the guy so long, they hate him, too. If you don’t work out whatever this shit is between you two, he’ll never fit in, no matter how many times he clocks Alistair.”

Dean didn’t want to admit Sam might be right. “What do you care, anyway?”

“Dean –” Sam started, annoyed. The waitress chose just that moment to bring their food. Sam deflated like a balloon and tried to smile at her. She looked a little confused, but didn’t run from their table as fast as usual. She still left before Dean could ask for ketchup, though.

Sam speared his fork into his salad. “Just make nice with Castiel, okay? The guy’s practically your guardian angel. I’d like to have him around for a while.”

Dean huffed out a laugh. “I wouldn’t say one act makes the guy my angel.”

Sam closed his eyes and was slow to open them, fixing Dean with a _are you serious_ kind of stare. “You mean you didn’t notice?”

Dean took a bite of a ketchup-less fry. “Notice what?”

“He put heat on every single person who even looked at you funny,” Sam said. “Seriously. Watch him at the game tonight.”

Dean lowered his face, hiding his blush. “He probably does that for everyone.”

“No,” Sam said, taking a bite of lettuce. He swallowed it down. “He doesn’t.”

*

“Goddammit, Dick is a dick,” Dean growled as he returned to the bench. The scoreboard read 1-0, not in their favor. Dean knew he could score, the goalie was new and ice cold, but he couldn’t manage to get close to the net. So far, he’d been checked, tripped, slashed, and high-sticked. The Leviathan’s goon Dick was responsible for most of it, and Alistair, who somehow hadn’t been traded yet despite his adamant hatred of the rest of the Hunter team, hadn’t done jack shit to cull the storm.

Dean glanced beside him at Sam. “So much for a Guardian Angel.”

Sam only smirked and pointed. “Look with your eyes, Dean.”

Across the ice, Cas skated by the Leviathan’s bench. Dean couldn’t see his face, but from the way Dick glared and snarled, it was pretty obvious Cas was speaking to him. Dean glanced up to where Cas’s face covered the jumbo-tron. The sound wasn’t picked up, but from the shape of Cas’s mouth, Dean could have sworn Cas said, “Don’t touch Dean Winchester.”

Sam looked pretty smug, but Dean just shook his head. “The guy’s going to get me killed.”

Sure enough, next line change, Dick immediately crowded Dean and elbowed him right in the jaw, knocking a few teeth loose. The whistle blew, a penalty was called, but not before Cas flew from the bench like the heaven-sent Guardian Angel Sam claimed him to be and threw down his gloves. He barely got one swing in before another Leviathan grabbed his jersey from behind.

And – _no_. _Hell_ , no.

Dean flung himself at the newcomer and pried him off Cas.

“Don’t touch him, asshole!” Dean shouted. Bobby had begged Dean before not to fight. He was the team’s best center. They couldn’t afford to have him in the penalty box or ejected from the game. And usually Dean tried to honor that request, unless someone was gunning for Sam. But watching this asshole try to gank Cas from behind stirred some of Dean’s own righteous fury. He wouldn’t sit by and let Cas get beat two to one.

One to one, however, Cas seemed to handle pretty well.

“Call off your boyfriend, Winchester!” Dick shouted. It was probably meant to be an insult. Funny, it had the opposite effect, stirring something fluttery in Dean’s stomach. He punched the guy who attacked Cas extra hard before letting himself be pulled back by the refs.

Dean and Cas both got ejected.

*

In the locker room, Dean and Cas sat side by side. Dean held a bag of ice to the edge of his mouth where his teeth had popped out. Cas held another bag to his nose. They sat in silence for a while, seething. Well, Dean was seething. He had no idea what Cas was doing.

Finally, Cas spoke, “I’m going to ask Bobby to switch to your line.”

Dean snorted. “Why, so you can bring me even bigger trouble?”

Cas narrowed his gaze. “No. So that I can properly protect you.”

“ _Oh my God_ , Cas. Give it up!” Dean looked up to the ceiling, wondering if he’d ever have enough patience to deal with this.

“I said I’d watch out for you,” Cas said.

“You’re doing a hell of a job so far.”

Cas looked at him. “Dick won’t take any more cheap shots on you.”

“Yeah,” Dean scoffed, “because we’re out of the game!”

Cas frowned and turned his head away. In the silence that settled over them, Dean began to regret the things he said. Dick had been particularly troublesome all night. Cas putting him in his place might make him a little less pushy next time, or at least make him think twice about it.

“I just don’t get it, man,” Dean said. “Where did this even come from? A couple of weeks ago, it would have been you putting me in the wall. Now you’re strutting around like my knight in shining armor.”

“We’re teammates now,” Cas said, looking down to the floor.

Dean thought of what Sam said. “Yeah, but you don’t protect the others like you do me.”

Voice soft, Cas replied, “You’re different.”

Dean lowered his ice bag away from his mouth. Inwardly, he drowned all the butterflies in his stomach with anger. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“Dean.”

“No, Cas. Stop the bullshit.” He reached up and pushed Cas’s shoulder until they faced each other on the bench. Cas was blushing, but that didn’t mean anything. Dean wanted to hear him say it. “Tell me what the fuck –”

“You’re too selfless!” Cas snapped. For a guy with a swollen, bruised nose, Cas still carried pissed off pretty well. His eyes were like storms over the ocean, and Dean felt a little off balance from the intensity. “You never watch your back. _Ever_. I’m new to the team, Dean, but I’m not new to _you_. You put Sam first, and Victor, and the rest. You even cover Alistair if you can, though he’s never done the same for you. You leave yourself in the open on purpose. You make yourself an easy target. And no one ever seems to stop you!”

“So what if I do?” Dean shouted right back. Cas might be his match physically, but there was no way he would win a verbal argument. Dean was well-practiced there. “That’s my own business. I don’t remember asking for your goddamn permission.”

“It’s _asinine_!” Cas’s deep voice echoed fiercely in the empty room. “You’re going to get yourself hurt, and then the team will be out their best playmaker!”

“Oh, I get it.” Disappointment swelled, amplifying Dean’s anger. Of course, Cas’s concern was for the team. The playoffs were important. A hell of a lot more important than Dean, anyway. But, _shit_ , he had hoped… He was an idiot. “Can’t afford to lose the cup, right? Nothing more important than –”

“I don’t care about the finals, Dean. I care about _you_.”

Dean’s mouth hung open for a moment. He closed it, but immediately opened it again. “What?”

Cas’s cheeks tinted pink, but he didn’t back down. He only stuck his chin out a little higher, blue eyes still holding Dean’s. Much softer than before, Cas said, “I care about you.”

Dean had trouble catching his breath. “Why?”

Surprise widened Cas’s eyes, before sadness softened them. “Selfless off the ice, as well,” Cas whispered. He smiled and spoke louder, “I like you, Dean Winchester, and I have for a very long time. For your big heart, your fierce determination, your unshakable loyalty to your team. I want to protect you because I like you, and because you deserve it.”

“You don’t mean that. Any of it.”

“I mean all of it and more,” Cas said, gaze never yielding.

Dean licked his lips, ignoring the tang of blood from his busted teeth. “More?”

The pink flush in Cas’s cheeks darkened further to full-on red. He glanced down to the space between them. “I’d like to take you on a date, Dean, if you are amicable to it.”

This time, Dean’s jaw fell opened and stayed open. The butterflies were back in full force in his stomach, anger be damned. He didn’t squash them this time, but let them flourish. Cas could be messing with him, but how would he fake a blush like that?

Dean took a breath and decided to take a chance. “Okay.”


	3. Chapter 3

Dean stood in the doorway of Cas’s hotel room, nervous and fumbling and sweating through the damned light blue polo shirt Sam had told him to wear.

“You like him, right?” Sam had asked. “That means no jeans. No t-shirts.”

Great plan, except when the door swung open, Cas was wearing jeans and a white t-shirt. He took one look at Dean’s wardrobe and said, “I didn’t realize… I can change into something more formal.”

“Nah, man. It’s okay,” Dean said and considered just turning right around and going back to his own hotel room. Maybe a night on the road wasn’t the best time for a date, but then, they didn’t get many free nights until the off-season. “I just… I’m overdressed.”

“Nonsense,” Cas said. He invited Dean in, closed the door behind him, and then moved across the room and opened the wardrobe.

A tray from room service sat under the television. Dean smelled burgers.

When Cas returned to his side, he wore a sports jacket over his t-shirt.

Dean dropped his chin to his chest, ready to start looking for a hole to hide in. “You didn’t have to do that.”

Cas places a hand on Dean’s shoulder. “I didn’t want to ruin our first date.”

“You mean like I’m doing?”

Cas squeezed Dean’s shoulder and somehow Dean relaxed. He glanced at Cas who watched him with a fond almost-smile. “You aren’t ruining anything.”

Heat rose in Dean’s cheeks. He laughed, nervous. “You’ll let me know if that changes, right?”

“There won’t be a need.”

The burgers Cas had ordered from room service turned out to not be half-bad, though all the same, Dean promised to make Cas one from scratch when they got back to Lawrence.

“I look forward to it,” Cas said, smiling shyly, and only then did Dean realize he asked Cas on a second date. And Cas said yes.

“Yeah?” Dean asked, just to be sure.

“Yes, Dean,” Cas said and a wide smile spread across Dean’s lips. Cas looked at him and blushed.

Dean couldn’t stay long. With a game early the next afternoon, Bobby had instilled a curfew for the players. Dean might consider breaking it, but he didn’t want to get Cas in trouble, too. Sometimes Bobby’s wraith was mighty fierce, and Cas wasn’t used to him yet.

Cas walked Dean to the door, but hesitated before opening it. He glanced up, gaze catching on Dean’s lips, and Dean had a pretty good idea what was bothering Cas.

Reaching out, Dean placed a hand on Cas’s cheek, brushing his thumb across the stubble.

“Dean,” Cas said and wet his lips with his tongue.

Dean leaned in and kissed him, soft and sweet, still a little too sore to go for more. When Dean pulled back, Cas’s closed eyes fluttered open. Dean wondered how such blue eyes could ever seem so warm. Cas was like the hottest part of a fire, Dean supposed. Bright and hot and dangerous enough to burn right through Dean if he reached out for more.

Dean closed the distance again, eager for the flames.


	4. Chapter 4

“So, what? You want to break up?” Arms crossed across his chest, Dean was wired and pissed, and couldn’t believe they’d come to this _already_. Hell, they’d only had a handful of dates – all quick dinners and a movie once. They hadn’t even made out yet. And now this. Maybe Dean should have known. He always thought he was bad at long term relationships, but maybe just no one wanted him.

“I don’t want to,” Cas said, a frown in his voice. He had his back to Dean. He hadn’t looked at him since Dean walked in, but Dean had no trouble picturing that constipated look Cas got when he over-thought things.

This hotel room was starting to feel too small. Dean wished he never thought to come over here. But Cas had seemed particularly upset when they lost their game to the Pontiac Angels that afternoon. Dean had hoped to cheer him up. He hadn’t known Cas was going to dump him.

“We distract each other,” Cas continued. “Gabriel was able to see it, and he used it against us. Against _me_.” He took a shaky breath. If they weren’t on the edge of heartbreak, Dean would have crossed the short distance between them and taken Cas in his arms. As it was, Dean stayed rooted. “Our loss today was _my_ fault.”

“Bullshit, it was,” Dean growled, agitation and anger swirling with the hurt. “It’s a team sport, Cas. I don’t know how things work up in Pontiac, but on our team – on the _Hunters –_ we bear responsibility, for good days and bad, as a team.”

Voice soft, Cas said, “You’re making excuses for me.”

“ _Shit_ , Cas!” Dean threw his hands up and started walking for the door. He stopped before he got there, though. He liked Cas. He wanted this to work. And maybe Cas didn’t want to be with Dean. But if that’s how they were going to go down, then that’s how they were going to go down. There wouldn’t be any question about what – _who_ – Dean wanted. “Look, you fucked up, I get it. But I fucked up, too. And so did Victor. And so did Sam.” He half-turned back to Cas. “If you want to break up because of this, I can’t stop you. But I thought we were better than that. I thought we might be more.”

“I don’t want to break up,” Cas said, glancing over his shoulder. His eyes were wide. Dean’s heart swelled with a hope that instantly crumbled when Cas said, “But this isn’t about what I want. It’s about the team. If we’re distracted by each other, we hurt them.”

Bitterness clawed at Dean’s throat. “So it’s about the playoffs.”

Cas turned then, finally facing him. His face was a blank sheet, emotionless except for the fire raging in his eyes. “The playoffs are important. They’re why we get paid what we do.”

“Yeah, well that’s just money. And the playoffs? Sure, great. I’d love to take home the cup one of these days. But what is it worth? Is it worth your happiness? And, _shit_.” Dean threw his hands up again and walked away for a moment to calm himself. It didn’t work. When he faced Cas, he was just as pissed as ever. “How little faith do you have in us? In _me?_ ”

Cas’s eyes widened marginally, a surprise he quickly covered, but Dean was too revved up to stop now.

“You think a few sideways glances are going to cost us the cup? We sucked tonight, Cas. All of us sucked. The Angels just played better than us. Samandriel knows how we play. They anticipated us. Sure, Gabriel tripped you up for the final goal, but I got a news flash for you, baby. We were losing anyway.”

“Dean –”

“I mean, _God damn_ it, Cas. So Gabriel messed with you. Who the hell cares? You’re onto his shit, now! He’s not going to surprise you again. But, _Jesus_ , man, if you still don’t think it’s worth it. If you… if…” Dean dropped his chin to his chest, feeling as deflated as an empty balloon. “I care about you. Maybe that doesn’t mean much –”

“It does.” Cas took a step closer. The fire in his eyes hadn’t subsided, but it seemed warm now, not scalding. Dean stared for a while. When Cas never looked away, he started to feel welcome to. “I care about you, too.”

“Then, why… this?”

Cas bit his bottom lip. “Things are different in Pontiac. The Angels, we… Responsibility was never shared. My weakness would have been exposed and condemned. I didn’t… I _don’t_ want to do that to you, Dean.”

Dean was listening to all Cas said, but when the words were done, his brain zeroed in on only one thing. “ _I’m_ your weakness?”

Cas’s cheeks tinted pink. “You know you are.”

“Still nice to hear,” Dean shrugged, “what after hearing all night about how you want to break up.”

“I _don’t_ want to break up.”

Dean sighed, waiting for the _but_. When it didn’t come, he provided it himself. “But?”

“No,” Cas said, shaking his head. “No but’s. I don’t want to break up. I never did. I just didn’t want you to resent me. You are my weakness on and off the ice. And if you were denied your chance at the playoffs because of my inability to stop… looking at you, I would never forgive myself.”

Dean reached out and Cas immediately took his hands. He pulled Dean against him, ran his fingers through Dean’s hair, and whispered, “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry I made you feel any less than how important you are to me.”

Dean should let it go. He was ready to. But he just had to be sure of one last thing. “More important than playoffs?”

Cas pulled away enough to look into Dean’s eyes. Voice and eyes earnest, Cas gave a one word definitive response, “ _Yes_.”

“You, too,” Dean said, hands gripping tight around Cas’s waist. “For me.”

Cas’s lips tasted like honey. His hands were firm – not demanding, but sturdy, like a keystone. His body spoke, _I’m here. You can lean on me. I’m not going anywhere._

His mouth whispered, “I’m sorry. Forgive me,” even as Dean assured him that all was fine and he was forgiven. Only once, when Dean was on the cusp of sleep resting on his shoulder, Cas said in a breath, “I love you.”

*

The next morning, Cas asked Dean if they could tell the team they were officially together.

“Sure,” Dean said, pleased and happy and a little in love. “But we have to tell Sam first or he’ll never forgive me.”

Sam’s response? A wide smile and, “Victor owes me fifty bucks!”


	5. Chapter 5

Dean bent forward, ready for the faceoff of their big game against the Vampirates.

“Evening, brother,” Benny said, mirroring Dean’s position across the red line. Before Dean could even say hello, Benny’s gaze slid sideways. “That him?”

Dean didn’t have to look to know Benny was talking about Cas. He’d already confided in Benny about Cas on the phone. Benny wasn’t a Hunter, but he was still Dean’s best friend. Dean knew Benny wouldn’t use the information against him.

Dean huffed. “You know it’s him.”

“Sure, I know Castiel Novak, Angel badass defenseman. Guy’s knocked me on my ass enough times.” Benny shrugged. “Who I don’t know is your _Cas_.” The referee skated between them and held out the puck. “Does he ever smile?”

Dean loved Cas’s shy smile, but his favorite was when Cas smiled big, all gums and teeth. The skin crinkled by those blue eyes that absolutely sparkled when Cas was happy.

Benny skated past Dean with the puck before Dean, too entranced in his thoughts of Cas, even noticed the referee had dropped it.

Benny wouldn’t use it against him. _Yeah, right_.

Dean took a tripping penalty after his retaliation but it was worth it. Benny didn’t seem too sore. He just laughed and said, “Sorry, Dean.”

Cas scowled at the back of Benny’s head. Thirty seconds later, he joined Dean in the penalty box.

“Dude.” Dean put his hand on Cas’s shoulder. “Benny’s a friend.”

Cas’s brow pulled together and his nose wrinkled in the most adorable scrunched up kitten face Dean had ever seen. “Oh. He wasn’t… He wasn’t taunting you?”

Dean laughed and moved his hand to pat Cas’s back twice before letting it drop. “Not any more than I deserved, baby.”

*

Later, after the Hunters had won thanks to a slapshot from Cas in the last five minutes of the game, the two teams shook hands. When Benny got to Dean, he gave him a hard handshake, nodded to Cas a few men down the line, and said, “You better hold onto that one.”

“I know, Benny.”

Benny shook his head, smile dropping into seriousness. “He loves you, Dean. It’s obvious.”

Dean thought of that night on the couch with Cas – of Cas’s deep voice whispering, _I love you._

"I know."

“You love him?” Benny asked.

Dean bit his lip, unsure how to reply. He’d never been good with the L-word.

Benny must have seen something in his face, though, because he laughed, released Dean’s hand, and said, “Make sure you tell him soon. Though I think he’d wait forever.”

They separated, moving down the line, though Dean could have sworn he heard Benny’s voice say, “You take care of him now.” Dean glanced back in time to see Cas blush. Then Benny moved on, shouting out, “Sam!”

*

In the middle of the night, with the starlight creeping in between the curtains and Cas gently snoring against his shoulder, Dean turned his head, kissed Cas’s forehead, and whispered, “I love you, too.”


	6. Chapter 6

Dean had gotten into the habit of rewarding his goals at practice by skating up to Cas for a quick kiss. It started innocently enough. Dean made a pretty impressive shot right over their goaltender Kevin’s shoulder, and then skated right for Cas.

“Did you see that, Cas?”

Cas rolled his eyes but pulled Dean closer. “Yes, Dean. I saw. You are very talented.”

“In more ways than one,” Dean said and kissed him. A few teammates laughed. One pretended to gag but Sam hit him upside the head.

“I know that, too,” Cas replied in a much softer voice meant only for them.

After that, it became reflex. Score a goal, kiss Cas. Every day, every practice. Score a goal, kiss Cas.

The Hunters were playing the Angels.

The Angels were a tough team, number one in the standings. They moved fast, scored big, and defended like a brick wall.

They were tied 2-2 toward the end of the third period. Cas poke-checked the puck away from Gabriel. Sam picked it up and passed it forward to Dean. Dean deked around Uriel and took a shot. Michael, the Angel’s goalie, lifted his arm. He was fast as lightning and twice as sharp, but tonight, Dean had been faster and sharper – or maybe just lucky.

The puck hit the net and the red light flashed.

Dean had scored with only a few seconds left.

Sam and Cas and Victor and the rest flocked to him for a congratulatory group hug. Dean, laughing, broke the hug after a few seconds, and skated toward Cas.

Cas was winded but smiling a wide gummy smile that made Dean fall in love all over again. The skin by Cas’s eyes crinkled. His laugh made ping pong balls bounce around in Dean’s chest.

Dean loved him.

Dean kissed him.

Then Dean remembered the crowd. This wasn’t a closed practice; this was a game. And while Cas was his one and only boyfriend, they hadn’t exactly come clean about it to the press.

“He’s like family,” Dean had told a reporter who asked their relationship. They had seemed to be asking a lot lately.

If Dean kept his eyes closed, he wondered, could he wake up and this all be a dream? Like one of those accidentally went out with no clothes on kind of dreams?

Dean felt more than heard his name pressed to his lips. “Dean.”

Afraid to look Cas in the eye, he dropped his chin to his chest. He didn’t want to see Cas look at him with disgust or shock or terror or hate. He liked when Cas looked at him like he was the whole world.

Dark tendrils of fear twisted in Dean’s gut. Maybe Cas would want to break up over this. Maybe Dean deserved it.

Even with closed eyelids, Dean could see the flashes of cameras. There was no going back for them. Dean’s mistake just dragged their private relationship right out into the open.

“People are staring,” Cas said.

“I’m sorry, Cas. It was just reflex, I didn’t mean to… in front of all these people…”

“They know about us now.”

Dean swallowed hard and nodded. They’d get a delay of game penalty soon, but he hadn’t heard the whistle yet. He still couldn’t face the world. He wasn’t ready to be Cas-less. He didn’t know if he would ever be ready for that.

“Perhaps…” Cas’s bare fingers touched Dean’s cheek, tracing a soft line across it like he sometimes did when they laid next to each other in bed or sat together on the couch. It was intimate, a lover’s touch.

And it, too, was in plain sight of the cameras.

Dean looked up into Cas’s face. His smile wasn’t as wide as before but the brightness in his eyes was no less dim. He looked at Dean as if he had built this arena by himself with his own hands and a toothpick.

Cas brushed his thumb across Dean’s bottom lip. “Perhaps we should give them a reason to stare,” he said and pulled Dean against him. He waited until Dean, swept away with love for this man, nodded, and then Cas kissed the living hell out of him.

Dean dropped his stick and clung to Cas’s shoulders. A whistle sounded in the crowd, and a lot of cheering. Dean could have sworn he heard Sam laughing.

They got a delay of game penalty, but it was totally worth it, especially when just before Cas gently pushed Dean away, whispered in his ear, “We’ll continue that in private.”

Dean, slack-jawed and maybe drooling a little bit, could only find thought enough to say, “ _Shit_ , yes.”

*

Later, during the after-game in-locker room interviews, local sports reporter Metatron asked Dean about his and Cas’s relationship.

Dean beamed with pride. “Cas is my boyfriend.”


	7. Chapter 7

“I don’t like it,” Dean said as he held an ice bag against Cas’s black eye. They were safe now, back inside Cas’s hotel room, Cas sitting on the edge of the bed, Dean hovering over him, furious.

“I’m a defenseman, Dean. I retaliate. That’s what I do.” Cas took the ice bag from Dean and held it himself, leaving Dean to stand there with nothing to do, helpless - just like he’d been when Azazel dropped his gloves when Cas wasn’t even looking. It had been a cheap shot, and Dean was still seething.

"Yeah, and who retaliates for you, Cas?"

Cas shook his head, gentle, patient, like Dean was some kid who didn’t get it. “That’s not how it works.”

"Well, maybe it should!"

"Dean."

"No, Cas. _Shit_.” Dean ran his hand through his hair. He turned from Cas, walked to the far side of the room and then walked back. Every nerve itched to fight, to track down Azazel and clock him right in the face. Return the favor. But Cas…

Cas’s good eye was bloodshot and tired. Dean knew it; getting the snot kicked out of you was exhausting. Cas needed rest. But he was still looking at Dean like _he_ was the one needing comfort.

Dean sighed, ran his hand down his face, and said, “Seeing you like this, Cas… Watching Azazel hurt you…” He lowered his gaze down to the carpet. He didn’t want Cas to see the anger and hurt and _fear_ he was sure were in his eyes.

But Cas must have seen anyway, or heard it in his voice, because he pushed himself up off the bed and hobbled toward Dean. Dean took a few steps forward to stop him, but Cas just raised his hand and placed it on Dean’s cheek. Dean immediately leaned into the offered warmth. He immediately calmed.

Cas was the only living person in the universe who could ever calm him down so fast, just from a touch.

"I want you to be okay," Dean said. "I don’t want to see you get hurt."

"I put myself in harm’s way to keep you from it, Dean."

"And I _hate_ that. Just let me get hit once in a while. Don’t take it all on yourself.”

Cas traced his thumb across Dean’s cheekbone, touch feather-light. “But Dean…”

Dean closed his eyes. “I love you, Cas.” There, finally, he’d said it aloud with both of them awake and aware, and a heavy weight lifted from his chest. He should have said it months ago, the moment he knew it was true. “I love you, and I can’t…”

"Dean. Please look at me."

Dean swallowed hard, but slowly opened his eyes. Cas had lowered the ice bag, one of his eyes was a narrow slit, but he smiled, too, wide and gummy - Cas’s happy smile. His _Dean Winchester you are everything_ smile.

"I love you," Dean said again, wanting to say it to Cas’s face with eyes wide open.

"I love you, too." Cas leaned up. Dean met him halfway for a kiss. It was chaste but sweet, and over much too soon when Cas started to wobble. Dean led him back to bed and pressed the ice bag back to his eye.

"Just promise to be more careful," Dean said, quietly, as he sat beside Cas on the edge of the bed.

Cas rested his head against Dean’s shoulder. “I’ll never stop protecting you, Dean.”

"I’m not asking that," Dean said, only because he knew he’d never get Cas to promise that. After all, Cas was his Guardian Angel. "Just… be careful."

"Alright," Cas said, but Dean knew he’d have to start being careful enough for the both of them.


	8. Chapter 8

The Hunters made it to the second round of the playoffs, but here, down to the Angels 3-0 in the third period, this seemed to be as far as they’d go. They were losing the series, 2 games to 1. A loss tonight would mean the end of their run for the cup.

Dean was pissed, but not because they were going to lose. The Hunters played hard and gave it their all. The Angels were just a better team this year. The Hunters had too much dead weight - like Alistair, although the whole team knew he’d be cut during the off-season.

No, Dean was pissed because he had bought a ring. He had an inscription engraved on the inside: _For my Guardian Angel - All my Love, Dean_. He had vowed to get over himself and propose. He’d thought the high of a victory - the high of a _cup_ \- might give him the courage he needed.

But now those dreams were going up in flames.

They were losing. The seconds ticked by. Not even the Great One could get the 4 goals they needed in 20 seconds.

15.

10.

The end of game buzzer was loud. Shrill.

The Angels flew from the bench and laughing, hugged and shoved each other. Samandriel was among them. He caught Dean’s eye and waved.

Dean waved back. Sam, Jr. was always a good kid. He deserved this.

But Sam, Jr. being there meant Cas wasn’t. If he hadn’t been traded, if he was still on the Angels, he’d have a chance to win it all. A good chance.

Dean didn’t seek Cas out as he got in line and shook hands. He smiled as he congratulated them. The Angels were all good people, even the hotshot goalie Michael. Though Dean’s smile was a little more tightly lipped for Gabriel, who asked, “Treating our baby brother right?”

"He should still be on your team," Dean said, though his heart clenched saying it. If Cas had stayed there, they never would have gotten together. Or, at least, it would have taken more time.

Gabriel threw his head back and laughed. It stifled only when he glanced at Dean again. Dean wasn’t laughing. His smile was wobbly.

"He deserves to win," Dean said.

Gabriel shook his head. “He _deserves_ to have what he _wants._ He’s never cared about winning. Seriously, cowboy. It’s like you don’t know him at all.”

* * *

Dean changed into his t-shirt and jeans. The Hunters locker room was somber, with everyone moving in silence. The ring pressed uncomfortably into Dean’s hip.

Sam approached Dean’s locker first. He’d been there when Dean bought it. “So you gonna -“

"No," Dean said and threw his balled up jersey onto the floor. He usually treated it with more respect, but it wasn’t like he’d need it for the next few months.

"You don’t even know what I was going to say."

Dean huffed out a bitter laugh. “I have a damn good idea.”

"Dean," Sam said with the kind of flat infliction he used whenever he thought Dean was being particularly idiotic. Dean looked up, and Sam motioned over his shoulder. "Are you going to talk to Cas?"

Cas sat on the bench, his skates still laced, his jersey still on. He held his helmet in his hands. Dean couldn’t see his face, but the slump to his shoulders told Dean he wasn’t smiling.

"You’ve been avoiding him," Sam said.

"That’s because -"

“ _I_ know why. He doesn’t.”

 _Shit_. Dean had been so caught up in his own stuff that it hadn’t even occurred to him that Cas might… _shit_.

"Go talk to him."

* * *

Dean waited until the locker room was mostly empty. Cas finally untied his skates and kicked them off. He didn’t look at Dean when Dean approached him.

"I’m sorry, Dean."

Dean sat down on the edge of the bench and crossed his arms. “I thought you were done taking on the burden of the whole team.”

"That’s not why I’m sorry."

Dean sucked in a breath. “Then what?” Did Cas know about the ring? Was this his way of letting Dean down gently? Was this how he -

"I’ve been keeping you at a distance lately." Cas pulled his jersey over his head. "That was unfair."

"Uh…" Dean frowned. Wasn’t _he_ the one ignoring _Cas?_ “Don’t worry about it, Cas. It’s not -“

"I really wanted to win tonight," Cas said.

The words jumbled in Dean’s throat. Words like  _I’m sorry_ ,  _Please don’t hate_ _me_ ,  _I never meant to let you down_. He closed his mouth to keep from saying any of them. At least, for now.

Cas hung up his jersey, then reached for his bag of clothes. He pulled out a small black box, no bigger than his palm.

Odd, that kind of looked like…

"I told myself that if we won tonight, I would be brave and propose," Cas said. "It was stupid. I should have proposed yesterday or the day before. Who’s going to want to marry someone when they’ve just lost one of their biggest chances to -"

"I do," Dean said, half a yelp of surprise, half a plea of desperation.

Cas, for maybe the first time all day, turned and looked at Dean. His blue eyes widened, vulnerable, and Dean wanted to do whatever it took to make them shine with happiness.

Maybe for the rest of his life.

No. _Definitely_ for the rest of his life.

"Do you?" Dean asked.

Slowly, never breaking eye contact, Cas nodded.

So Dean reached into his pocket, retrieved the ring he had bought for Cas weeks ago, and held it out.

Cas gasped. “You…?”

"Had the same idea," Dean said. "Marry me."

"Dean."

"Say yes."

Cas jumped onto Dean, pads and all, and planted kiss after kiss all over Dean’s face.

Dean laughed, the weight holding him down suddenly gone. “You have to say it, baby.”

“ _Yes_ ,” Cas said, again and again. “A thousand times, yes.”

Later, they exchanged their rings. Cas read his and smiled, then gave the one he bought to Dean.

It was a simple silver band with an inscription on the inside that read simply, _More than playoffs._

Dean didn’t know what it felt like to win the cup, but he somehow knew it didn’t hold a candle to this.

To _love_.


End file.
